Secrets, Tears, and Moments
by lannistersdebt
Summary: Lucius is in Azkaban. Draco is at school. Narcissa is...alone. Sort of.


**Note:** This is a gift for my dear friend, Raybe. Raybe, love, I hope you enjoy. As always, JKR owns all rights. I just get to play.

* * *

"I'll be alone again. He leaves in a week." Her voice wavered, nowhere near as steady as her hands were, holding slightly chipped china – china that had once been in her home, and left it because of that very chip. Lucius wanted to sack the elf that was responsible, he was so angry. She convinced him to leave the punishment to herself, and then gave the china away. Narcissa bit her lip as she looked up from her tea, not bothering to hide the fear and worry in her eyes. "You know he snuck away when we were in Diagon Alley not long ago. He still won't tell me where he went or what he was doing – yet you're sure that you can watch him. Protect him." Keep your promise.

Irritation flashed across Snape's face. If she didn't know him so well, she wouldn't have even noticed it, but she knew his expressions nearly as well as her own. It would have been hard to miss anyway, if one watched him. He was always more deliberate when he was beginning to get agitated. He set his tea cup on the worn table between them, making sure not to spill any, and leaned back in his armchair, fingers steepled beneath his chin. After a long moment, he finally spoke. "I have my ways of keeping up with children, as you very well know. I seem to specialize in those that are bothersome and repeatedly land themselves in situations they ought not be in."

Narcissa tapped her fingers against the china, unwilling to set it down alongside his, as if that in itself were a statement. "Unlike many of your students, Draco is not bothersome – and I hardly think it fair to say he repeatedly gets in trouble. Potter – "

"Is worse. But you cannot honestly say that Draco isn't in a tough spot right now, Narcissa." Snape frowned. "He's young and desperate to prove himself, and that makes one both bothersome and foolish."

The witch just turned away so that she was staring at one of his many bookcases, though this one seemed more abandoned than any of the others. Dust and cobwebs covered all empty space, with no marks to show that any of the books had been removed recently. Near the bottom of the shelves there were several photographs; she leaned closer, just barely making out the figures. In one, there was two children, about ten years old. It was too dark to make out details, but she could see that their arms were around each other's shoulders and they looked happy. The photo next to it was a solitary figure. A woman with her back to the photographer, kneeling. It looked like she was petting a cat, but without more light, Narcissa couldn't tell.

Snape cleared his throat, the sound loud in the otherwise silent house. Narcissa turned back to look at him, wishing she could reach for her wand and use it to look at the pictures more. She wanted to see them better, to question him about them – even though she knew it would do no good. This was as sentimental about his past as she had ever seen him, and if dust and darkness was all he was willing to give the pictures, she knew she would get no more. She took a sip of her tea and caught his gaze flickering to the shelves and then back to her just as quickly.

"I swore to you that I would protect your son, Narcissa." He sounded resigned and reassuring at the same time. "And I will do just that."

She couldn't remember speaking for the rest of the night.

..

..

Draco left a week later, and she could hardly remember a time when she had dreaded silence more than now. The Manor was empty and intimidating, even with the elves making sure that rooms were lit and keeping everything clean. Narcissa found herself wishing she knew where the Dark Lord and his followers were just so she could hear other voices.

She was sitting near the window in her bedroom when the rain started, each drop louder in her head than it was in reality. Draco was at Hogwarts, under the eyes of his godfather. Lucius was in Azkaban, haunted by dementors. His taste in bed-mates went a different path, and so did hers, but he had still been a presence in the house. They were gone, and she was alone.

She heard it in every raindrop.

Gone. Gone.

Gone.

GONE.

..

..

"No. He can't have it."

"He doesn't need to own it, Cissy." Bellatrix's gaze wandered around the dining room as the house elves brought up food. Narcissa had asked them not to just send it up like they used to – it was the only conversation she had these days. "But the Dark Lord needs somewhere to use again, somewhere unlikely to be raided. Besides, you've got plenty of room. Draco said to ask you, as a formality, but he thinks that we should be allowed to use it if we want to. It's just you here."

Bella laughed, but her sister didn't.

"You've been talking to Draco?" Narcissa tried not to show her jealousy, but it was plain by the delight in Bella's eyes that it wasn't working.

"Of course! He writes me nearly every day." She fished a folded bit of parchment from her robes. "Says Snape's getting on his last nerve, meddling and inviting him to his office constantly. Good to know he's joining my club." She grinned.

"Let me have that!" Narcissa reached for the parchment, but Bella snatched her hand back and smirked. "Bella! Let me have the letter!"

But the witch just picked up her fork and began to eat. She was casual as she stabbed at a piece of carrot. "You'll need to do better than that, Cissy. Say that our master can use the Manor. You know he'll just take it himself later anyway. It will be easier if you give your permission… And then you can have the letter from your precious son."

Narcissa squeezed her eyes shut. Was she really so desperate for words from Draco – words that weren't even to her – that she would let her home be defiled? She knew the answer even as she thought the question. The answer was easy: Yes. Whether she wanted to lend the Manor to the cause or not, he would take it and do whatever he wanted with it. That was what frightened her most.

"Fine." Her voice shook. "Fine. He can use it."

Bella blew her a kiss and threw the letter to the table, standing as she did so. "You're ever so gracious, Cissy. The Dark Lord will be most pleased."

She held in her tears until her sister's footsteps disappeared.

..

..

Aunt Bella,

You were right. The bloody bastard doesn't want to help me at all, he just wants to do everything for me. Isn't it enough that the Dark Lord already trusts him? Already seems to hang onto his every word at the meetings? He wants more, and more, and more. Like the ultimate act for him is going to be the offing of…well, you know. I should be brave enough to write his name, but I can't do it yet. Not when I'm surrounded by all these gits who think he's the greatest gift in the world.

Thank you for the Occlumency lessons, by the way. He still manages to break in from time to time, but I'm getting better at it. I can tell it makes him mad.

As for the subject of the Manor… I think it would be best if Mother just says yes. The company will do her good. And its what Father would want.

I need to go. My encryption spells will only last so long.

Draco

..

..

Two weeks later, she still kept reading the words over again. He refused to answer any letters of her own, and Bella just hummed whenever she tried to mention correspondence. It was frustrating.

To make matters even worse, she felt uncomfortable leaving the top floor of the Manor. It was the only one that the Death Eaters had been told to stay away from. So far, they were following their orders, but she could hear them all hours of the day and night. Every cry of pain echoed in her ears for hours, and as much as she wished she could help the victims, she was glad that she was not in their place.

..

..

By Halloween she couldn't take it anymore. The snippy letters from Snape, the lack of any communication with her son, and Lucius practically banning her from visiting him were all frustrating her to no end, and she was tired of being locked up in the Manor. Bella asked her not to go, promising her that they could get Draco to come to Hogsmeade soon, but Narcissa shrugged her off. Soon wasn't soon enough.

Down at the gates, she considered going straight to Hogwarts – but that would mean speaking to Dumbledore. Biting her lip, she spun on her heel, and then only a couple moments later found herself down the street from Snape's house. She laughed at herself, then. So much for the Three Broomsticks.

It would take more effort than she wanted to put forth right then to apparate to Hogsmeade, so it was with a slight sigh that she moved down the street to the front door she'd become ever so familiar with over the summer. It was different, now, not having to knock and not seeing Wormtail opening the door with his jealous eyes and shaking hands. She didn't miss seeing him at all. He stayed down the hall from Bella now, rarely coming out of his room unless he was summoned. Snape had taught him well, she supposed.

She smirked. He had taught her well, too, about a variety of things. At the time, she didn't believe she would ever need to know the spells he locked his door with, but she was glad now as she let herself in. None of the wards were disturbed by her presence, and nothing came out of the darkness to attack her. With a soft sigh, she slid her wand over to her other hand and whispered, "Lumos."

With the light, she found a book of matches and lit them quickly, finding his candles as she went. After only a few moments, they had all been lit, and she found her eyes wandering toward the shelf she knew had the photographs. Wand aloft still, she sat on the couch and bent forward, hoping they were still there. It wasn't likely he'd moved them, but there was still a chance. She was rewarded almost instantly.

"Accio," she whispered again. The whole stack flew to her lap, free for her to look through. Most of them were random, muggle things, and she set them aside with nothing more than a glance. There were only three she was ultimately interested in: the two from that day in August and a third, another one of a woman – but a different woman than before.

The picture of the woman kneeling was plain, but she guessed that it had been his mother. He never spoke of her, and Narcissa had never met her, but there was something in her stomach that told her her guess was right. Perhaps it was in the set of the woman's shoulders, or the shape of her hand…the witch didn't know. She set it aside, looking to the one of the children. It was Snape and the girl could only be Lily Evans-Potter.

Narcissa's mouth twitched.

It was ridiculous, really, that she should be jealous of a dead woman, much less a dead woman that had turned Snape away. And yet she was. Oh, she understood that Lily stood for different things and that she had a whole different set of morals. But she also knew what she would have given to have a boy stare at her as Snape had stared at Lily. She knew now, now that he looked at her like that, and that made her even more angry.

How could you throw away such a gift as that?

The question was still bothering her as she set the pictures aside to fetch some wine. Snape had an elf at Hogwarts, she knew, but he never brought it home with him. Anyway, it most certainly wouldn't be there without him, so it was up to her to find it herself. She spotted it after a few moments of searching and after grabbing a wine glass from a cabinet, then after pouring herself a glass, she returned to the sofa. She settled down and sipped, enjoying the sweet taste. This was one she recognized, which meant she'd probably given it to Snape herself. He enjoyed the drink with his dinner, but she rarely drank it unless she was in his company – and even then, it had to meet her standards. Right now, she would gladly have taken anything.

After a few moments, with most of the glass gone, she was feeling a little warmer and picked up the third photo again. She blew the dust from it, coughing a little, and squinted. The woman was…herself. She squinted. It was from the year before Draco was born, she was sure; that was the last time she'd looked so happy to have a photo taken outside of her home. She couldn't tell exactly where she was, only that it wasn't anywhere she had been in a long time.

Suddenly, she was crying.

And then she was back in the kitchen, riffling through cabinets and drawers alike until she found what she wanted: Snape's firewhiskey. She couldn't tell how much of it she drank; she didn't even bother getting out a glass. The bottle would do just fine. It made her throat burn, but she didn't stop drinking until she had to breathe. Choking, she waved her wand toward the candles, extinguishing them all at once.

Crying even harder then, she stumbled to the stairway and somehow made it up to the next landing. With one hand grasping the firewhiskey, she placed the other along the wall and guided herself to his bedroom. It was neat, as she knew it would be, with the bed made and no clothes in sight. Shamelessly, she riffled through his dresser until she found one of his shirts. Her eyes burned as she set the bottle on the nightstand and stripped quickly. Under the duvet, she clutched the shirt to her chest.

..

..

Morning came with more speed than she imagined it would. Her head was pounding, and her eyes hurt. I need to sleep more.

She eyed the bottle of firewhiskey and picked it up, not hesitating as she tipped it back again. The fire hadn't even settled in her stomach when she felt everything going black.

..

..

When she woke up the next time, her head hurt less. She was confused, though, about why she heard the cracking of wood in a fireplace. Frowning, she pulled the blankets around her closer to her chin and shifted so she could look around. There was a man standing across the room, scanning a bookshelf that took up the entire wall, his fingers skimming along every spine as though they were looking for a particular one. Her brow furrowed. What the hell was going on?

All she remembered was drinking. The pictures. More drinking. Snape's bedroom.

Snape.

She rubbed a hand over her eyes and groaned softly. That was definitely him. Which meant he either moved her to another room in his house or…she was at Hogwarts. In his bed. "If I ever mean to drink again, please, in the name of Merlin, don't let me."

"Narcissa," he whirled around in the midst of removing a book. "I was wondering when you would join the rest of us."

"Us?" She shut her eyes again.

He shrugged, even though she didn't see it. "The rest of the world. The only ones in here are the two of us."

"Oh."

He leaned against the bookshelf, his arms crossed over his chest. He looked concerned for her, which made her blush, and for several minutes, neither moved at all. He finally cleared his throat and drew her gaze to his own. "What were you doing there?"

"I…" It was embarrassing now, how she had acted. Her cheeks warmed. He could use legilimency, if he wanted, but she could tell that he wasn't, and she couldn't bear to tell him the whole truth. "I missed you, and Draco, and I couldn't take another moment in that damned house. But mostly…I missed you." She was nearly whispering, by then.

"You could have sent me an owl. There's no rule saying I'm not allowed visitors." He was trying to stay stern, but she could see in his eyes that he was more concerned than angry with her.

She held her hand out from the bed, asking him to come. He did, as she knew he would, and when she kissed him, it said everything she couldn't bear to put into words.

..

..

He was at the Manor. She was surprised to see him when she walked into the library, trepidation making her every step slower than the previous one. The Dark Lord hardly summoned her unless he wanted to make comments about Lucius rotting away in Azkaban, where he deserved to be until Draco redeemed him. He'd just gone on a tangent yesterday, though, so she hardly imagined that was what he wanted again. Not so soon. But when she rounded the corner, she stopped short.

Snape sat with his back to her, a wineglass in his hand. He seemed at ease, strangely enough – and it was soon obvious why. The Dark Lord wasn't with him.

"Severus!" She spoke softly but her voice seemed loud in the quiet room. "What are you doing here? I thought you would still be at the school."

He rose swiftly and she could see that there was blood on his robes. "Everything is…fine. But I told Dumbledore I would come personally, instead of sending you and owl. Draco has been injured." He set his wine down and crossed the rest of the distance to her. "It isn't necessary for you to come, if you don't want to, but I knew you would want to be informed."

"No. I want to go." She was surprised her voice was so steady.

..

..

She sat next to Draco's bed in the hospital wing, looking down at him. By her request, everyone had left her alone with him for hours. It was late in the evening, or early in the morning – she couldn't tell – when Severus returned. He whispered her name and she looked up at him. "I need to know what happened."

None of them had told her anything before.

"His behavior hasn't gone unnoticed. He's suspected already, of more than one thing, especially after her was found lurking in the hallway during Slughorn's party."

"You did the same thing when we were in school. People always thought you were dodgy." She worked her jaw. "Maybe not for the same reasons, but you still did it."

He sighed and pulled over a chair. "I wasn't assigned a task such as Draco's, Narcissa, which you should no better than nearly anyone. As I said, he's already suspected of…unsavory events, the least of which is having cursed the necklace that the Bell girl obtained while she was in Hogsmeade."

"Who suspects him? Dumbledore?"

"He doesn't say." He leaned forward slightly. "Potter."

Her expression changed to one of scorn instantly, but she didn't open her mouth to argue – yet.

"Just because it's Potter doesn't excuse Draco. And Bellatrix doesn't help matters, encouraging the boy. He believes I want to steal his glory, something we both know that Lucius used to fear as well. They're both proud, so I suppose it can't be helped…"

"So Potter thought he should do the world a favor and rip Draco to shreds. He should be expelled, at the least. Better yet, snap his wand and hand him to the Dark Lord on a silver platter. Then I can bring Draco away from this school, and he can forget about this task. He'll be safe! And the Dark Lord will be happy!"

"You think that receiving Potter will let Draco out of his mission?" Snape sat back again. "That may be the most foolish thing that I've heard you say yet, Narcissa. The Dark Lord means to punish Lucius. He will not be satisfied with Draco until Draco attempts – and likely fails – to carry out his orders."

"Then go and help him right now!" She was nearly shouting. "Help him with the damned thing so that we can all move on."

"You're being reckless, Narcissa." His tone was low. "Do you forget where you are?"

"Do I look like I give a damn?" Her eyes were icy, but she couldn't help admiring how he still looked so calm. Calm and dangerous. She knew what he was capable of. "How do you do it? How do you fool every fucking person but yourself?"

He rose and left without another word.

..

..

"Why do you have a picture of me from so long ago at your house?"

They sat in his chambers, near the fire. It was cold and windy out, promising rain, and he had the room warmer than she had expected it to be. Narcissa didn't mind it at all; she was tired of always being cold. Across from her, in an armchair he occupied often, Snape held a book in his lap. He wasn't even in his full dress; his robes and frock coat were gone, putting him down to his Oxford. She was still surprised he had let her in, since she hadn't warned him she would be coming.

He looked up from his reading. "What?"

"Why do you have a picture of me from so long ago at your house? I saw it that night. It was with one of your mother and you, when you were a kid."

The book snapped shut and he grasped it tightly.

"And why do you like me, for that matter? I thought you preferred redheads, Severus." She tried to sound casual, but her heart was beating so fast she thought he would hear it. His eyes flashed dangerously and she felt ice start to gather in her stomach. Perhaps she was pushing it too far.

"Have you been drinking?"

"No," she spat. "I just want to know. I saw you with her all the time when I was still in school, and everyone always said to leave her alone because she was yours. But when you joined the Death Eaters officially, you didn't bring her. And the picture…. People don't keep pictures around when they don't care about people. I just…I want to know why you had a picture of me when it was – is – so clear that it was her you loved. Love. Whatever."

"I think you should leave." His voice was low and tight again, as it always was when he was angry. And his knuckles were white. Yes. Dangerous.

"What was her name? Evans?"

"Don't."

She wouldn't get anything else from him, she knew, and she was terrified anyway. He was so rarely angry at her; she didn't quite know how to handle it. Quickly, she grabbed her coat, though she didn't bother to put it on before she ran out the door. The path to the castle's doors was clear; it was a Hogsmeade weekend, so the majority of the students were gone. Those who remained were in their common rooms or the library, away from the weather, so she escaped any stares she would have gotten otherwise. It had started to rain while she was inside, and the moment she was out the doors she was soaked through. Perfect. It could hide her tears.

Why had she brought up the pictures – brought up Lily – at all? She couldn't even be sure, trying to wrap her mind around it. But in her heart, she knew. She wanted to know that he loved her, now. That Lily was a thing of the past. A love lost.

Near the edge of the Forbidden Forest, she threw down her coat and sank to her knees, oblivious to anything outside the sobs racking her own body. She was alone for only a few moments and then she felt hands on her waist. Frightened, she tried to squirm away and was rewarded with a low growl in her ear. She stilled. "Severus?"

She had to shout to be heard.

In response, he pulled her to her feet and whirled her around. She was tight against his chest and, as she always had to when they were this close, she had to look up at him. He was still angry, so she wasn't expecting it when he kissed her. She could taste the possession in it, and the apology. Frustration. Despair. He kissed her like he was scared of losing her.

When he pulled back, she whimpered, but he was pulling her with him – further into the forest, where they wouldn't be seen. There, it was quieter, but not by much. They were still being rained on, but at least she could speak without shouting. "What are you doing?"

A ridiculous question. He'd already unzipped her dress, and she was already working on his shirt.

"I'm sorry, for all of what I said. I shouldn't have. I –"

His mouth covered hers again, and her words turned into a moan. She stepped from her dress, her fingers working hastily to rid him of the rest of his clothes. Soon, his oxford joined everything else on the ground, and he gave her shoulders a gentle push. The rustle of leaves as they lay down was lost in the rain, the sound of her gasp lost in the wind. She was still crying, but neither could tell.

Snape's hands were everywhere all at once, roaming her back and then suddenly, she arched up. It had been weeks since she'd felt his touch, and she was suddenly more desperate for him than she could have imagined. Eager to reciprocate, she stroked his hardness, and smiled when he nipped at her neck. Her stomach fluttered as he removed her hand, knowing what was next. It burned as he thrust inside her, and she gasped into his mouth. "Shit."

He stilled for a moment, letting her adjust. He gripped her hips and thrust upwards sharply, making her gasp again. He repeated the move, and then she began to move under him. She could feel him everywhere, and he could feel her hands roaming all over. They settled into a rhythm, gliding over each other, bodies slicked with rain. The Forest ate up their sighs and moans, greedy in its own way.

Snape moved faster, bruising her skin where he gripped her hips. Her orgasm rippled through her forcefully, making her cry out and dig her nails into his back. He slowed only for a moment, set back into motion as she kept moving herself. His face flushed just before he kissed her again, and she felt him shudder as he came.

He whispered something against her cheek as he settled beside her, something she couldn't quite make out. "What was that?"

"I love you."

In that moment, she knew all his secrets.


End file.
